


Finest Architecture

by andymcnope



Category: Arrow (2012)
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content, also there's no actual smut between oliver and felicity so this is your warning, bad use of judgement on author's part, sorta kinda crossover with Hung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:57:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1234084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andymcnope/pseuds/andymcnope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She gulps down because they’ve seen people come back from the dead, people with metahuman powers, but this? This might take the cake. (a.k.a. Felicity sleeps with a male prostitute who looks an awful lot like Oliver Queen)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finest Architecture

**Author's Note:**

> This is a semi-crossover with Hung’s season 3 character “Jason” who was played by Stephen Amell. All you really need to know is that he played a busboy who turns prostitute; he has a girlfriend/fiancee who is always plotting, and he is really reaaaaaally dumb. Also he ends up working at this “front” business where they talk about female orgasms and have practicum sessions where the male hookers make ladies happy. 
> 
> Inspired by lightphotographyart's prompt (see andymcnope.tumblr.com/post/77610833317 and jaegermighty.tumblr.com/post/77729040832/andymcnope-jaegermighty). Title from Katy Perry’s “Peacock” because I apparently have not hit rock bottom yet.

Felicity heads for the hotel bar when they make it back to the Hilton, ignoring Oliver’s goodnight and his silent apology. 

 

She’s frankly too angry to be around him right now, and she wishes she could be home but home is a couple of thousand miles away, and they have a meeting the next morning at the Detroit office of Queen Consolidated.

 

The curls in her hair are starting to unravel, and she blames that on him as well, with the way his fingers had curled around her scalp as his mouth had pressed into hers at the gala they’d just attended.

 

It hadn’t been the first time it had happened. Granted, the other two times had been during the aftermath of life threatening vigilante business, both kisses initiated by her and later chalked to high adrenaline and unspoken feelings that they continuously attempted to ignore. 

 

But tonight he’d been the one to pull her in, and she had been fairly sure the biggest danger they’d been in was death by boredom. And it would all be _fine_ if he hadn’t pulled away with that look of self-disappointment and gone into one of his brooding moods, reminding her they couldn’t do this, and blah blah dangerous lives, and blah blah she could be leading a normal life if he hadn’t pulled her into this life of crime. 

 

In fact, she kind of misses the early days when she thought Oliver Queen wasn’t _into_ her. Yes, there were a lot of feelings being eaten in the forms of carbs during that period, but knowing he cared but was too hardheaded to act on it… this was proving to be most infuriating. It figures the one time Oliver Queen decided _not_ to be a selfish prick when it came to sex and relationships, it would be with her.

 

The bartender flirts with her, obviously not picking up on her mood, but thankfully goes away after pouring her a cocktail. She tries not to drink it too fast, especially since she’d had a few glasses of champagne at the gala, and she really wishes she had Sara here. Or Diggle. But this isn’t an official Arrow Team trip, it’s a business trip, so her friends are home, fighting crime and probably too busy to hear her whine about her love life.

 

“Can I order you another one of those?” the voice to her right sends her into a fit of rage again.

 

“I can’t believe you,” she says, trying not to raise her voice because the last thing she needs is someone seeing this and having it end up on TMZ. “And why did you change into another suit?” She asks as she takes in his appearance.

 

“I’m… sorry?” he replies, his face making an unfamiliar confused expression.

 

She blinks twice, taking in the shorter hair and lack of facial stubble. Realizing her mistake, she wonders what her BAC level is at the moment. “I thought you were someone else,” she explains.

 

“Can I still get you a drink?” He tries again, flashing her a smile that’s exactly the same and entirely different all at once.

 

She gulps down because they’ve seen people come back from the dead, people with metahuman powers, but this? This might take the cake. “Um… sure,” she replies, trying not to stare at the baby-soft skin of his jaw. It bugs her, but it also makes her wonder what it would feel like to press her lips against it.

 

“I’m Jason,” he explains, holding out his hand. She shakes it, and his grip is firm but there’s no authority behind it.

 

“Nice to meet you, Jason. I’m… Felicity,” she says after considering giving him a fake name, but this is _Detroit_ for fuck’s sake. 

 

“Felicity? That’s exotic,” his voice sounds amazed, and she frowns.

 

“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” she adds, wondering what his deal is. Obviously he’s pushing hard on his game, but he also doesn’t exactly seem like he has an evil agenda. He just seems… _simple,_ she realizes as she takes a sip of her drink.

 

He drops down into her personal space, lips so close to her ear that she can feel their heat. “I can make you go pretty far,” he promises.

 

She chokes on her drink, and there’s genuine concern in his face as he taps softly on her back until she can breathe normally again.

 

He apologizes and orders a glass of water along with another drink for her, and then she’s following him into a booth in the corner, not entirely sure where this is headed, but she could use simple for once.

 

*

 

He might not be able to shoot a curved arrow by calculating wind speeds and direction in his mind, but she learns Jason has incredibly talented fingers as he bends her over the arm of her hotel room couch. Her dress is bunched up around her middle, her underwear gone, and his fingers are touching her as if he has all of her spots committed to memory. 

 

She comes twice before his mouth even drops to her center, fingers spreading her apart as he licks long stripes back and forth, tongue diving deep inside her on every other pass. She’s already clenching again, her entire body tensing as she feels it hit her again.

 

There’s a familiar rustle of a condom packet being opened, and she sighs contently into the fabric of the upscale hotel suite couch, waiting for him to press against her. It may not be the best idea to get over the evening’s events, but it’s pretty amazing so far. 

 

It doesn’t take long, but he doesn’t slide right in, teasing her instead. She feels him pushing inside her just a couple of inches, and then he’s pulling back and rubbing at her clit with his thumb. He repeats the motions several times, until she’s stands on her tiptoes and pushes back against him.

 

She thought she was prepared, and physically she is beyond prepared, but as he stretches her far past what she is expecting, she gasps in surprise. “Oh,” she moans as she raises her head and glances back at him, and he is beaming at her. It’s not the smirk she’d seen in her fantasies, just a pleased and proud smile that reminds her he is not _him_ but as he flexes inside her, she doesn’t really mind at this moment. “Fuck,” she gasps, pushing up on her arms so she can brace better as he thrusts into her.

 

Two orgasms hit her, almost back to back; the first is sharp and he pulls out as it’s done, picking her up and pressing her onto her back on the marble-top coffee table, and then his mouth is between her legs again, the second orgasm hitting as the tremors from the first one are just subsiding. 

 

She thinks he finished when he’d pulled out, but when he sits back on his heels, she sees him standing proud and… _large_. 

 

“You’re so pretty,” he comments, his face looking actually stunned before he shrugs it off and pulls at her legs until she’s almost half off the coffee table, and he’s thrusting into her again.

 

The cold marble against her back stings through her dress, so she lifts up on her elbows, glancing down at where they’re joined. He’s not even going all the way in, at least three of four inches left, but it’s still intensely erotic to watch it. He changes angles slightly, going even deeper now, and she bites her lips as she watches the muscles in his navel tense up with every thrust.

 

He pulls her completely off the coffee table and into his lap, one arm around her waist holding her up with no effort as she rides him. His hand wraps around her head in the same way Oliver’s had earlier in the evening and she doesn’t stop to analyze why that makes her come yet again, Jason following her this time.

 

*

 

“This is pretty neat,” he says as he is chewing, a pet peeve of hers but considering the guy’s other skills, she’s willing to let it slide. 

 

She’d changed into the complimentary robe and ordered room service, only feeling a twinge of guilt as she billed it to the corporate credit card on file.

 

“Food is good,” she replies absentmindedly as they eat on the bed, because her brain is running low on fuel or possibly overloaded from all of the orgasms. It’s not as if she’s had problems with getting off - other than those trying months during her sophomore year of college before she’d learned exactly what she liked - but she’s never had sex like this either.

 

“Are you like an executive or something?” He asks, glancing around the hotel room. He’s unashamedly naked, and for the first time she feels a pang of disappointment at the lack of scars and tattoos on his skin. He’s muscular, but built for looks rather than utility; years at the gym instead of fighting for his life on an crappy island, or being a vigilante.

 

“Or something,” she replies. “I am an executive assistant.”

 

“Secretaries are hot,” he contributes, and she cringes. “Teachers are hot too. My fiancee wanted to be a teacher.”

 

Felicity’s jaw drops open, because no, this cannot be happening to her.

 

“Sorry, ex-fiancee. We’re sorta on a break,” he explains.

 

“Sorta?” Felicity asks, frowning.

 

“Oh don’t worry, she’d be cool with this anyway,” he reassures her as he finishes his gourmet sandwich. “I mean, it’s my job and all.”

 

Felicity frowns even more. “Job?” 

 

“Yeah, you know… I go on dates,” he adds pointedly. “Like, sex dates. Dates where I have sex. For money,” he explains with that same fucking smile he always seems to wear.

 

“Shit,” Felicity says as she tosses the uneaten half of her lettuce wrap into the tray. 

 

“If you’re worried about paying me, you don’t need to worry at all, I wasn’t on the job or anything. You are really gorgeous and I’m still trying to get over Sandee,” the smile gives way to a pout.

 

Felicity shuts her eyes tightly, counting to ten and hoping when she opens them she won’t have just had really great sex with a male prostitute who looks a lot like Oliver Queen. Except in the fact that he makes her boss sound like a rocket scientist.

 

When she opens her eyes, he’s still there, and he is reaching for the knot on her robe, apparently over the brief flashback to his ex. “You should go now,” she manages to say, moving to place her hand on his stomach to push him away… except she miscalculates, and her hand’ wraps around his base instead.

 

Well, maybe she’s being just slightly too judgmental, she tells herself as he twitches in her hand. After all so what if this guy has a double life? She’s kind of used to that.

 

*

 

Felicity finds reasons to return to Detroit several times in the following weeks, including a fake college roommate’s baby shower. 

 

She even attends the stupid seminar about _Orgasmic Living_ at Jason’s job, and even if the word vulva makes her gag a little, there’s still good information. The practicum is pretty intense as Jake - aka Jason’s super creative alter ego name - introduces her to a few positions she’d only seen in movies. 

 

It’s not weird until Felicity walks out into the street outside the Wellness center, and senses someone following her.

 

Detroit is actually pretty scary, especially after sundown, even if this isn’t a completely abandoned area of the city. Felicity digs into her purse for her phone, activating her panic button timer app, and then grabbing the pepper spray and switchblade that Diggle had shown her how to use.

 

She turns the corner and wedges herself against a door, waiting for whoever is following her to expose themselves, but just as she’s about to mace her attacker, she sees a familiar leather jacket.

 

“Sara?!” she gasps out, dropping the switchblade and pepper spray.

 

“Before you get upset at me, I should tell you we pulled straws and I lost,” Sara offers as she picks up the dropped items, handing them back to Felicity . “The guys were concerned about your sudden interest in the Motor City.”

 

“You cannot be serious,” Felicity replies. “I’m going to kill him— I mean, them.”

 

“No, you don’t,” her friend points out. 

 

“No, I don’t,” she admits. “Just… who gave him the right to—“

 

Her sentence is cut short as Jason appears, looking happy to have caught up with her. “Hey Felicity, you forgot your Happiness Package,” he explains, handing her the bag with two books, a vibrator and a DVD their instructor had guaranteed contained some female-oriented porn scenes. “Oh, is this a friend?”

 

Sara just stands there in shock, mouth agape.

 

“Mmm-hmm,” Felicity replies, taking the gift bag from his hand. “We really have to go now. Work emergency,” she begs off, grabbing Sara by the arm and pulling her away.

 

“I hope to see you again,” Jason shouts out after them.

 

“Okay, that alone was worth the plane tickets,” Sara comments as Felicity unlocks the rental car.

 

“You have no idea,” Felicity replies as she slides the key into the ignition. “But whatever you do, you _cannot_ tell the others.”

 

Sara is laughing too hard to make any promises.

 

*

 

Sara keeps her promise even as Felicity and Oliver become an actual item, months later.

 

Sara also flies to Detroit a couple more times, but the kid is too dull and Felicity just shrugs when Sara complains several months later.

 

“I wasn’t exactly going for the conversation,” Felicity explains as she spars with Sara in the foundry. 

 

“When I told him I was stranded on an island once, he asked why I didn’t build a raft out of the trees, like on Gilligan’s Island,” Sara replies as she just barely dodges Felicity’s improving punches.

 

“One time we watched Scooby-Doo and he was completely blown away by who the bad guy was,” Felicity adds between kicks that Sara deflects.

 

“Jesus,” Sara curses with a laugh as she moves off the mat and towards the water bottles.

 

Felicity laughs too, wrapping a towel around her neck and slipping her engagement ring back onto her finger. “Oh, then there was the time he asked me what language they spoke in England. Or when I told him I was Jewish and he said that he didn’t want any copies of The Watchtower?”

 

“You know, I’m totally gonna tell this story during your rehearsal dinner,” Sara teases.

 

Felicity shakes her head in denial as they walk towards the makeshift locker room area.

 

“Do you think Jason does bachelorette parties?” Sara asks, hip checking Felicity in a further tease.

 

“Next time you’re on your motorcycle, speeding through traffic and waiting for directions over comm, do not be surprised if I send you into a ditch,” Felicity counters.

 

“Nah, you like me too much. Plus then you’d have to ask Thea to be your maid-of-honor, and she would drive you insane with all of the planning.”

 

She sighs, because Sara’s right. 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Male Prostitute in the Club With His (Word Redacted Due to Content)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3431885) by [geneeste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geneeste/pseuds/geneeste)




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